


Three's A Crowd

by MarbleAide



Category: Actor RPF, Marvel Avengers Movies RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Double Penetration, Fluff, Frottage, Jealousy, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2013-01-28
Packaged: 2017-11-27 08:44:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/660036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarbleAide/pseuds/MarbleAide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when Tom Hiddlestion gets caught between two Chrises.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which Tom and Chris are too fucking cute

“Evans?” Tom knocked on the hotel door, looking down at his watch at the same time. The car would be outside in fifteen minutes to bring them over to the convention, and Tom still hadn’t had sight or sound from the other all morning. Mark had suggested Tom be the one to go get him, seeing as Robert wasn’t with them.

Chris’s anxiety issues were well known by almost everyone who was involved in the making of the Avengers movie. More than once, one of the main cast was sent to go ’rescue’ him from the crowds of fans and paparazzi. The only problem here was normally it was Robert’s job to keep the young actor safe and calm and, right now, their ensemble was one Robert Downey Jr. short. So Tom was the next best thing.

“Evans, come on, I know you’re in there. It’s okay, really, just—Chris, _please_.” The name was strange coming out of his mouth, he had to admit, especially when the blond that opened the door wasn’t technically _his_ blond. There was too much worry in those blue eyes to be right, and—

Tom had to shake those thoughts away, because they would certainly help no one right now. Because right now the blond in front of him was pretty much having a panic attack in the door way of his hotel room and Tom was the only one around to catch him if he fell.

“Tom, I—“

Before Chris could finish that thought, Tom rushed into the room, fearful of the door being closed on him with a softly said, ‘I just can’t’, which was not going to help anyone.

The inside of the room looked just as ruffled at its current occupant. Clothing littered the ground, different articles of everything thrown across the floor. The pillows from the couch also accompanied the clothing on the floor, and a few pieces of furniture looked knocked out of place. And this was just the living room.

Tom sighed, turning around to find Chris looked just as worried as when he answered the door. However, this time he seemed to be waiting for something.

For Tom to scold him, no doubt.

But Tom could never bring himself to kick a hurt puppy, which was exactly what the poor man looked like right now. Once more, Tom sighed.

“Look, Chris, I realize this is really difficult for you. And I’m not Robert and I have no idea how he normally handles this but—“

“It’s not—I mean—“ And Tom could see Chris’s shoulder’s visibly slump. His eyes fell with them, embarrassment written all over his face as he memorized the texture of the carpet. “I know I’m being stupid. All this—I should be used to it by now, right? But I can’t even seem to dress myself properly, let alone sit in front of a huge group of people and answer questions.” Chris groaned, running both hands through his hair before finally moving from the now closed door to flop down onto the couch, groaning into the seat cushions.

Tom followed him across the room, but sat down on the floor instead, back pressed against the couches edge. For a few heart beats, there was silence in the room as Chris drowned himself further in anxiety and Tom tried to think of the best way to save him from it. His eyes gazed left and right at the condition of the room, looking from one article of clothing to another before a thin smile stretched across his face.

“So, how many times have you changed already?”

A groan came before words. “Seven.  Whenever I put something on, it feels so tight, but then I change into something else and it feels too relaxed, but everything above casual seems like I’m trying too hard.” Chris turned his head towards Tom, nudging him gently with his foot. “How do you do it?”

Tom cocked his head back until his neck was against the couch, his smile still small, but still present. “Do what?”

Chris rolled his eyes, nudging him a little harder. “Look good in pretty much everything you wear!”

At this, Tom couldn’t help but laugh. “What are you talking about? I throw on whatever is closest to me and just go. You, sir, are just too tightly wound up. “

He could see the massive amounts of anxiety crash back down into Chris at that sentence. He fell back down to smother himself into the couch, muttering ‘You’re right!’ which was quickly muffled by the furniture.

Damn. Tom really wasn’t good at this.

“Hey, hey, hey, come on.  Don’t get like that. How does Robert normally do this? He makes it look so easy…”

“Practice, I’m afraid. And he normally just gives me a swift kick to the ass and calls me ‘pretty boy’ a lot.”

Okay, so maybe that last part he wasn’t totally expecting. And his reaction might not have been the best, but how long had Robert been calling Chris ‘pretty boy’? His eyes were wide, and he knew it, but he couldn’t really help that right now.

Chris pretty much looked like he wanted to die.

“No, please, just—go away and let me be pathetic alone already.”

Tom’s smile only grew larger as he picked himself up off the ground and got up on the couch, straddling Chris’s legs as he pressed his hands into the other’s back, feeling the tight muscles, and digging his the heels of his hands in to trying and work out all the tension. He heard Chris groan and wasn’t sure if it was another of his ‘self-pity’ groans or if he liked what Tom was doing. Either way, he pressed harder and spread his hands.

“So I’m not the type of person who will kick your ass, but I can defiantly call you pretty boy a few times, pretty boy.”

Again, he heard a groan, but no true protest.

“I can’t believe Robert has been keeping this little gem all to himself. Out of all of us, you would be the pretty boy. Even compared to Hemsworth and those luscious locks. You’re the one with the boyish charm, pretty boy.”

As he spoke, he could feel the muscle in Chris’s back loosen and relax. Tom let himself feel just a little accomplished.

“But you know what, pretty boy? I’m not sure I want to be using someone else’s pet name for you. No, that’s like cheating.” Below him, Chris hissed as a particular knot was worked out. “Hmm…how about ‘darling’?”  Tom leaned forward a bit, pressing hard and getting close to Chris’s ear. “Anyone call you that?”

A moan. And this time, he knew it was good.

“N-no…”

Tom smiled, chuckling softly in his throat. “Good, because I think it suits you fairly well….darling.” He heard a heavy sigh and leaned back, feel the last bit of tension leave the body below him. “My Darling Captain…”

A minute or two past with neither men speaking or moving and, after, Tom was worried that Chris might have fallen asleep. But the body below him suddenly shifted, moving to turn so now Tom was facing the other, his legs on either side of Chris’s thighs.

“Feel better?”

“Much. That was better than a kick to the ass, that’s for sure.”

“Good. Now—“

“Lovebug.”

Tom paused, staring down at Chris. Did he just…?

“Excuse me?”

Chris smiled now, which was a good thing in truth, but all Tom could think was ‘pure evil’.

“If you get to give me a pet name, I’m giving you one. Lovebug.”

There was a second, where Tom wanted to protest, because that name was terribly ridiculous, but then reconsidered it, as he was sure shooting the other down right now would not be good, and he would probably never get him to move from the couch if he did so. All he could do was give in.

“Fine, but only if you get up, get dressed, and go to the convention with your head held high like the superhero you are.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Tom regretted them as he watched that concern enter the other’s eyes once more. He could already feel the tension building up in the body below him. Reflexively, he leaned forward, cupping Chris’s face in his hands and stared directly down at him.

“You’ll do great, darling.”

All the concern and worry and anxiety melted away almost instantly.  And, again, Chris smiled.

“Whatever you say, lovebug.”


	2. In Which Tom and Chris stop being so fucking cute and start getting a little more undressed

The sun was gone by the time they all piled into the car to head back to the hotel. All of them were fairly exhausted from all the interviews, the panel, all the signings and pictures. It only took five minutes before Cobie was asleep on Clark’s shoulder, who couldn’t blame her in the least. It was taking everyone a good amount of energy not to do the same. The fifteen minute drive turned into thirty with all the traffic, giving everyone enough time to regain a little of their composure from the long day.

When they finally got back to the hotel, Mark decided to help Cobie get up to her room, as she was still only half awake and kept stumbling back and forth mumbling about fanboys and inappropriate areas to put autographs. Clark, Tom, and Chris said goodnight before they disappeared into the elevator.

“Anyone else feel like they need a serious drink?” Clark asked, already heading over to the bar, which seemed to be particularly quiet that night. The two younger actors only muttered their agreement and followed along, taking a seat at the bar and ordered a round of beers.  After the first were downed, the final tensions of the day fell away.

“Well, that wasn’t as terrible as I thought it might have been.” Tom spoke up first, already gesturing for another round.

“Not bad? During the panel alone a girl called you a ‘beautiful man’ and you sang a song from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.” Chris choked up, coughing slightly on the beer that went down the wrong pipe. Clark smacked him hard on the back, making it go down easier.

Tom, who was smiling by this point, only shrugged. “As I said, wasn’t terrible. And, I only counted you fidgeting in your chair about five times. I’m proud.”

Chris groaned at this, covering his face in his hands, knowing Tom was right. It wasn’t so bad this time, but he had gotten nervous again before going out for the Avengers panel and he couldn’t sit still the entire time. “I couldn’t even take off my hat! Why did they want me to take off my hat? I looked like a total dork…”

“Oh, please,” Clark snorted, taking a drink, “They loved you. Okay, maybe not as much as Tom, but apparently everyone wants to have Tom’s babies or something—“

At this, Tom winced and tried to cover the blush spreading over his cheeks. It was a low blow, seeing as he already felt bad for being an attention whore, even if it wasn’t on purpose.

“—but you’re Captain America. How could they not love you? They were freaking out!”

“And you did manage to answer a few questions without throwing up, so no worries.”

Tom could only laugh as a soft punch landed on his shoulder. As the second round finished up, a third came to drown their woes away.

By the time the night hours turned into morning, the trio turned into a duo as Clark was the smarter of the three and headed up to bed early, realizing as soon as a simple beer turned into shots of vodka that he was too old to keep up with the younger two. His body would probably already hate him in the morning for this. Vodka would only end with him curled up in his bed until three in the afternoon hiding from the sun.

It was nearly two in the morning by the time the bartender cut Chris and Tom off. Both of them groaned for a few minutes, trying to call her back with Chris’s muscles and Tom’s charming accent, but she wouldn’t show such weakness, so they found themselves leaning on each other as they headed up to their rooms.

Except, it turned out to be one room instead of two. By the time they found their way over to Tom’s (who’s was closer to the elevator at the time, and Chris couldn’t remember how to walk properly without hanging off of Tom) they were both too far gone to notice the difference. It took four tries to get the key card swiped properly and another two to get the door opened before it locked again. They stumbled in together, toppling over one another until both were on the floor, which was solid and the ability to walk was not needed to just lay there.

Chris’s sight was fuzzy and unfocused. Staring up at the ceiling did not help with the issue, as that appeared to be constantly spinning. Beside him, he heard a groan, than something heavy and warm plopped down across his chest. He made no move to get Tom off.

“Mmmm…stop breathing. You’re making me dizzy.” Tom muttered, rubbing his cheek against Chris’s shirt.

“Wha? How am I supposed to stop breathing?”

Again, Tom muttered, his eyes closed shut as he kept rubbing his cheek against the very solid chest below him. “Don’t know. Just….stop.”

“But then I’ll die. And you won’t have a darling of a captain around anymore.”

Tom snorted, laughing softly. “Yes, but I’ll have a really still pillow.”

“I’m a terrible pillow. You should go to bed. They have nice pillows.”

Tom grinned at this, lifting his head up to look down at Chris, his hands on his cheeks, squeezing them together until Chris looked like a fish. “Then, Oh Captain, My Captain, maybe you should take me to bed?”

There was a moment of pause as Chris thought about this sentence, genuinely thought about it, and Tom almost fell asleep on his chest once more, but his world was quickly shaken awake as Chris shifted and got up, cradling him in his arms easily. Tom’s eyes went wide, latching on to Chris’s neck in a vice grip as his entire world seemed to flip. He was suddenly so high up!

“As you wish, my Lovebug.” Chris said, twirling to head in the direction of the bedroom. Tom squirmed the entire way, torn between wanting to pull Chris closer in fear of falling and arguing with him to let him down.

It would have been an easy walk from entrance way to bedroom, as it was only a few yards distance, but the lights were still turned off and they were still fairly drunk. That, combined with the scarf that had been thrown to the ground the night before made for a fairly difficult transport that ended with Chris slipping on the scarf, sending them both down onto the bed. Thankfully, however, Chris managed to catch himself before he crushed poor Tom.

They were safe, but now they were unquestionably close, with Chris right above Tom, mere inches between them, and both of them were fairly drunk, and it was late. Really late. No one could blame them, really.

“If I kissed you right now,” Chris spoke up, eyes falling down to the parted lips that were right there and panting warm air onto his neck. Instinctively, he found himself licking his own. “Do you think we would regret it in the morning?”

It took Tom a moment to answer, to catch his breath, and before the words he shook his head frantically, fingers already finding their way around Chris’s shoulders.

“Only one way to find out.”

They crashed together in a mix of lips and tongue. The kiss was sloppy, made sloppier in their drunken state. Hands ran through hair, pulling and tugging; frantic as they did the same to clothing that already felt too hot. Their chests pressed together, limbs intertwining. Everything already felt too hot and too much and neither would last long, even now.

“Chris,” Tom managed to say, pulling away for breath and words and pleading. “Chris, _god_ , please, _darling_ —“

“Yeah, yeah,” Chris said, leaning up on his knees, fingers already slipping off his jacket, working on the shirt. “I know, _I know_ , just, just—“

Neither of them were making sense at this point, but apparently both understood, because Tom nodded, stripping himself of his own clothing until both of them were naked, still on the top of the blankets in the dark of a hotel room, drunk. At this point, neither seemed to care either.

Chris pinned Tom to the bed with sheer strength, pressing down on his shoulders as he attacked his mouth once more, licking his way inside to taste the dry vodka and cheap beer and everything that was Tom Hiddleston. Tom took it all and wanted more, withering under the grip held on him, trying to move around and get more contact, anything, because he was embarrassingly hard already and needed something to stop his body from feeling so hot. And, right now, Chris seemed like the perfect candidate to help him out.

“Damn it, Chris— _darling_ —god, anything, please, just… _touch me_.” He hissed, biting down on his lip as Chris finally pulled away, deciding his mouth was abused enough, moving down his chest and lapped at one of his nipples, forcing Tom to arch off the bed, even under the hard grip, and scream.

The reaction only encouraged Chris further, scrapping teeth over the hard nub as he twisted and rolled the other over the pads of his fingers, tearing more and more moans and cries from Tom’s throat.

“S-so unfair…you horrible tease…” Tom mumbled, eyes falling closed in sheer pleasure.

With his eyes closed, he didn’t see Chris smile. He didn’t see the evil glint in his eyes. Not until it was too late. Not until Chris was grinding their hips together, rubbing their cocks against each other’s and Tom once more found voice enough to scream.

“Better?” Chris teased; slowing his movements into something of a rhythm, so he could watch as Tom lost it.

Below him, Tom was doing just that. He squirmed and withered and panted, feeling like it was too much and too little all at once. He hissed, biting at his already abused lip once more, as he opened his eyes just enough to direct one hand down between their bodies, fingers slipping around their cocks, gripping tightly and stroked them together. Above him, Chris moaned, letting his head fall forward as he thrust into that warm hand.

“Better?” Tom mocked, smiling as Chris glared down at him.

The glare didn’t last long as Tom used his free hand to pull Chris down into another smothering kiss. Their bodies moved together, Chris’s thrust’s meeting Tom’s hand on every movement. They soon found the need for air too much, finding it more suitable to simply pant against each other’s skin. Chris buried his face in Tom’s neck, pressing down hard, holding Tom down as his hips grew faster, more erratic.

“I’m—I’m going to—“

Tom nodded, even if Chris couldn’t see it. “Y-yeah, me too…”

Another few thrusts and Tom’s hand squeezed a little harder, rubbing his thumb over the head of Chris’s cock, which sent him over the edge finally. His entire body went tense, blunt nails digging into Tom’s shoulders, leaving angry red marks as he painted their stomachs with his seed. Tom came a second later, calling out Chris’s name as he arched up, pumping them both through their orgasms before falling limp against the bed.

Exhausted, Chris fell as well, sprawled against Tom’s chest, his head resting in the crook of his neck, too tired to care about the mess now pressed between them. Tom didn’t even care how heavy Chris was. He simply sighed, eyes already closing, and wrapped his arms around the other man, snuggling into the warmth.

“Night, Darling.”

“Goodnight, Lovebug…”

Another second and both men were asleep.

(They didn’t regret it in the morning.)


	3. In Which Tom has a conversation and questions everything.

Tom woke up with a solid body below him, strong arms wrapped around his waist, and there wasn’t any snoring. Strange enough, it was the ‘no snoring’ part that startled him the most, because normally there was a least a little snoring. Especially if they had a few drinks the night before and—

Tom quickly bolted up, moving a few strands of hair out of his eyes as he looked down at the body he had been sleeping against.

Oh. Right. That’s why there was no snoring. Because Chris Hemsworth snored and Chris Evans…Chris Evans _wasn’t_ Hemsworth.

And, for a second, that thought startled Tom. Which, really, it shouldn’t have. It wasn’t like he and Hemsworth were dating. There was nothing at all to feel guilty for. Nothing.

Especially when the body below him shifted, turning over and eyes cracked open to show slits of blue (not bright enough)

“Hey…” Chris mumbled, a goofy boyish grin spreading across his face in the dim lighting of the room. The lights still weren’t on and the curtains were drawn closed, only letting in thin slits of light. Even with such small amounts, Tom could still see as the grin fell into something of a frown and watched as Chris’s brain started working ten times harder than it should have. It was giving Tom’s growing headache a headache. “What’s wrong?” He finally asked, sitting up. One hand came up to grip Tom’s forearm. He didn’t pull away.

It took him only a second to react; to get over the fact that this wasn’t technically _his_ Chris, sure, but it was still Chris and that was still just as good. So, Tom smiled to reassure Chris Evans, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on his mouth, pushing him back down onto the bed so they could settle back in.

“Nothing’s wrong. It’s just way too early still and I feel my hangover coming on.” He said, wrapping long limps around broad shoulders to keep that warm body close. “Let’s just sleep a little longer.” He closes his eyes, hoping Chris will follow suit.

And, after a moment, the body below him relaxed once more. Those strong arms hold his waist once again and Tom can feel the steady pace of breathe upon his head as they both slip back into something that is sleep.

Sadly, this only lasts for another thirty minutes or so, give or take, as the moment comes crashing down when Tom’s phone rings. And rings. And rings.

Finally, with a heavy sigh, Tom dragged himself off the bed, out of the strong grasp and warm embrace, to magically find his phone in the pocket of his forgotten pants. Luckily, the glow from the screen was visible.

“Hmmm…yes?” Tom grumbled, making his way back to Chris to continue this conversation on top of his chest.

“Tom? Are you still asleep?”

If he was before, Tom defiantly wasn’t now. And it wasn’t like Chris had just walked in on them, so it wasn’t like Tom had to shoot up in bed clutching his phone. He wasn’t guilty. He didn’t regret it. But hearing Chris’s voice— _his Chris_ —made it a little harder to believe that.

“Chris? I’m not—well—wait, what time is it?” Tom closed his eyes and took a breath, trying to fight back sleep and a headache all at once so he sounded somewhat put together. Which really felt impossible right now.

“Time? Tom, man, it’s one in the afternoon! What the hell are you still doing in bed?” If it was anyone else, Tom might have questioned them, because he could sleep until one in the afternoon if he wanted to! But this was Chris, and Chris knew he got up early almost every morning to do yoga or run or something. And one in the afternoon sounded so insane, even in his own ears.

“I just…” He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to get it all together. The body next to him was slowly becoming harder to ignore as Chris—the other Chris—began to wake up as well with all of Tom’s talking. He jumped when a hand landed on his back, messaging tense muscles. A hard chest pressed against his side, chin on his shoulder. Tom held back a shutter.

“Who is it?” He heard the voice which was purely American purr in his ear, while the other one that held those little hints of Australia called his name in the other.

“I—after the convention, we went back to the hotel and got a little drunk at the bar…must have been more than I thought.” Tom finally let out, trying to ignore the fingers that where still roaming his back, feeling the curve of his spine and dipping down to his hip. He had to bite his tongue and force himself not to tell Chris what else they had done last night.

There was a pause on the other line, something that was too long in Tom’s ear, before Chris finally answered. “Right, anyway, I was wondering if you wanted to grab lunch? I’m in town and thought we could meet up somewhere if you’re not in a real hurry to leave?”

“Of—COURSE!” Tom yelped in surprise as that hand got bolder, moving right past his hip and down. He bit his lip once more to silence his gasp.

On the phone, Chris was starting to sound worried (and possibly suspicious, but Tom couldn’t concentrate long enough to actually hear it). “Seriously, are you okay?”

“F-fine! Let me just shower and dress real quick and I’ll call you back.”

“Whatever you want.”

“Just—give me an hour. Call you then.”

And he knew it was rude to hang up before actually saying goodbye. He knew it was, but Tom couldn’t help it. He just barely managed to end the call before another drawn out gasp left his lips, followed quickly by a low moan. He groaned, slumping back against the body behind him, head falling onto a shoulder and arched into the hand now thoroughly pumping his cock.

“Damnit, Chris!” He hissed out, “What if he heard me?”

“Then I would have probably hidden under a rock for the rest of my life, but he didn’t, which is the only thing that matters.”

Tom gave Chris a glare for that response.

Chris only smiled back, that charming little boy-next-door smile.

“What?”

“We have an hour and I still need to shower. “

Tom didn’t like how Chris’s smile didn’t fall.

“Well than,” He said, already chipper and wide awake. “We shall continue this in the bathroom!”

The response he got was another glare, but Tom did nothing more of protest as Chris lifted him up off the bed and carried him over to the bathroom.


	4. In Which Tom doesn't regret anything and Chris gets jealous

It might have taken a little longer than an hour to get ready, and it had everything to do with Tom having to take a shower twice (the second time he had to force Chris out, because he really didn’t want to have to take a third). When he finally came upon the sandwich café Chris had told him they would meet up at, his guilt had doubled since waking up; tripling almost upon seeing Chris Hemsworth waiting for him with a table outside.

“You’re late.” Was the greeting that he got, even though Chris was still smiling at him, all truths and bright blue eyes. Tom couldn’t help but feel a heavy sinking in his stomach, something that only Chris— ** _this_** _Chris, **his** Chris_ —could ever make him feel.

“Sorry. I was having issues…getting out of bed.” Tom replied hesitantly with as much of a smile as he could muster with his stomach in knots. Which, really, was ridiculous. He refused to feel guilty about last night. Simply refused. Even so, he didn’t want to tell Chris and that in itself felt too much like lying to him.

Tom took a seat and they ordered, easily slipping into something that resembled a normal friendship once more, though Tom still couldn’t help feel like the small talk was starting to kill him and his smile couldn’t possibly be more forced than it already was. If it was anyone else sitting across from him, Tom might have gotten away with it. Lunch would have ended and he would have simply walked away. But this was Chris, and of course something like that would have been too easy.

“Okay, that’s it.” Chris broke in. That had been the seventh time Tom averted his eyes from him, and he was sick of it. “What’s wrong? You woke up at one in the afternoon, you were late getting here, and now you keep getting all…all…flustered or distracted or something. The point is, you’re acting weird, and I know you are, so don’t try and tell me otherwise. Now, seriously, what’s up?”

Tom paused, feeling the heat rise up on his cheeks almost instantly. Slowly, he put down his fork, swallowed, and then opened his mouth to ask Chris what he was talking about, but quickly shut it, as it would be no use. Chris knew something was wrong. No use lying about it now.

“I…” He started, but found himself, for once, at a loss of words. He opened and closed his mouth another few times before giving up, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. It shouldn’t have been this difficult. Tom shouldn’t be feeling so guilty about it. Because— _because_ —

“Look.” Tom finally said, leaning in to fix his gaze on Chris. “You can’t be mad. You can’t even—“ He paused, took a breath, and continued. “I don’t regret it. Just know that. I don’t. Because we’re not dating or anything like that and you can’t get mad at me. I didn’t do anything wrong. We—“

Now Chris was just staring at him, totally confused and a little concerned as he tried to piece together the bits of information Tom was throwing at him. With a heavy sigh, Tom finally caved.

“I slept with Evans.”

There was silence. And, for a moment, Tom thought the Earth stood still. They stared at each other for a long while, blue seeing blue. Chris was searching, but Tom simply stood his ground. An eternity passed between them before Chris finally gave in and blinked, turning away.

“You…what?” He whispered, trying to grasp the weight of Tom’s words.

“We bonded. We were drunk. I don’t regret it.” Tom shrugged, taking a sip from his water, trying to be as nonchalant as possible and act like all this was no big deal. But, inside his heart had stopped beating and he hadn’t taken a proper breathe in a second or two.

(‘ _Say something, anything, just say something and stop staring at me like that. You know what those eyes do, so stop it. Please. Please. **Please.** Stop it all and just **say something** —_‘)

“I just…” Now it was Chris’s turn to be at a loss for words. Licking his lips and running fingers through his hair frantically; eyes shifting everywhere but where they should be. “I don’t—“ He looked up and found Tom still staring at him, trying to look firm and uncaring, but Chris could see through it. How his brow came together, how his lips pursed and he bit the inside of his cheek ever so slightly. Waiting. Chris shook his head, not wanting to see that.

“Why?” He breathed out; still trying to figure out what to stare at beside’s Tom’s face.

Tom was ready to jump out of his skin. “Jesus, Chris, I don’t know! You think we planned this?” He questioned, leaning forward to try and force Chris’s eyes to meet his own. “Because that’s what I was thinking all last week, ‘Jeez, I can’t wait to go to the convention where Hemsworth isn’t so I can do what I will with Evans!’”

“So falling on his dick was a total accident?” Chris snarled back in retort. Both men now glared at each other, silently wondering who would throw the next blow.  There outburst had drawn the attention from some of the other café customers, drawing their eyes and whispering quietly about what was going on.

With a heavy sigh, Tom finally gave up.

“I’m not doing this with you, Chris.” He said, throwing his napkin off his lap and grabbing his jacket to go. “I told you, I do _not_ regret this, and refuse to change my mind. But I think you can still feel good about yourself with the thought that you still made me feel like a complete and utter prick.”

He left after that, leaving Chris feeling even worse about the situation and rethinking his own chose of words.

It didn’t help that Tom had left money to pay for the bill.


	5. In Which both Chrises finally learn how to share

Chris got the call a little after four in the afternoon, which was sort of surprising, as he hadn’t thought Tom would be back so soon. Though, that surprise was soon replaced with concern as he answered with a pleasant ‘hey’ and got back choked out words as a reply.

“Chris? Could you…could you just come over to my room? Please?” There wasn’t a sob within those words, but there might as well have been. “I just…I have a bottle of wine and…” Once more, the voice trailed off and Chris could hear a heavy sigh on the other side. He could picture Tom pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut. “Please?”

It took him two minutes to get to Tom’s room after that.

When the door came open, Chris could honestly say he had never seen Tom look like this, and never wanted to see him look like it ever again. His eyes looked tired and hurt, his shoulders slumped and he carried his entire body as if it suddenly became too heavy for him. All together, Tom looked broken.

“What happened?”  Chris asked, suddenly more panicked then he was before. He followed Tom in, watching at the other male dump himself down onto the couch and poured a fairly large glass of red wine into a coffee cup. “I thought you were having lunch with Hemsworth…”

Tom glanced upward and gave him a look. A look that said ‘ _yeah, I **was**_ ’ and everything else that Chris needed to see. And, suddenly, Chris paused. He paused because these were grounds he didn’t know how to tread on. Tom and Hemsworth were friends, good friends. They had been working together longer than the rest of them had been and they had a bond. How do you handle comforting someone if it was all their best friend’s fault?

“What did he do?” Chris finally asked, taking a seat next to Tom on the couch. Another mug was gestured his way; Tom offering him some wine as well, but Chris refused. Something told him if both of them were under the influence in such a situation they would wake up fairly naked (something he didn’t really mind) and things would be broken (that was the issue). Instead, Tom simply shrugged and downed his own coffee mug, deciding instead of refilling it to just grab the rest of the bottle and start drinking it straight.

“It wasn’t—“ Tom took a second to swallow the mouthful of red wine he was holding before continuing. “— _entirely_ his fault. We were both sort of idiotic pricks, but I told him not to get mad! I _told_ him! And yet…he goes…he goes and practically calls me a—a – a harlot in public! A _slut_!”

“Tom…” He might have been a little drunker than Chris had come to realize. Either Tom was a total light weight, or there was another empty bottle of wine hidden in the hotel room somewhere.

“I just….” Tom’s face fell as he sighed heavily, taking another large gulp from his bottle before falling against Chris, leaning heavily on his shoulder for support. “I might have told him we slept together.”

“What!?”

“And he might have been a little jealous. Maybe. I think.”

“Jealous of what?”

“You not being him.”

“He wants to sleep with you?”

Tom shook his head, rubbing his cheek against Chris’s arm before taking a drink and continuing. “No, he has. We have. A few times, but…”

Chris tensed.

Tom didn’t seem to notice. He went to go say something else, but both their attentions were torn away when there came a knock at the door. It came again when neither one moved to get it. Thankfully, this time Tom rose with a grumble, the wine bottle still firmly clasped in his hands as he went to the door.

“Yes, can I help—“ His voice caught when he finally looked up to see who was on the other side. His jaw clenched tight, as did his grasp on the bottle of wine (from his view on the couch, Chris was worried that Tom might just decide to throw the bottle). “No, sorry.” He said when his voice returned to him with anger. “I can’t help you. Get out.” He went to close the door, but Chris Hemsworth was faster.

“No, wait, Tom!” His hand caught the edge, pushing it open easily enough as Tom lost his grip and stumbled back. “Just let me talk to you, let me apologize, please!”

A moment of thought flashed across Tom’s face as he looked Hemsworth up and down, no doubt judging whether he could shove him back out the door. Probably not, he finally decided, as he knew how much stronger Chris was compared to him and the fight would be over as soon as it started. He decided to stand his ground with hip cocked out and arms crossed.

“Apologize for being a total ass?” He snapped and, at that, both Chrises winced. Anger was never a good look on Tom, and it was never good to be the one who made him angry.

“Yes, that.” Hemsworth took a step forward, testing the waters. When Tom didn’t make any motion to move back, Chris took that as a good sign, even if his posture still contained too much aggressiveness. “Really, I’m sorry for how I reacted. You’re right, I shouldn’t have.”

Tom glared. “Clearly.”

Again, a wince.

“You cannot blame me for being jealous.”

And, that was it. Right there. Tom’s shoulders fell. The tension left his back. The glare softened in his eyes and the scowl he wore gave way to something more tired looking, more like Tom. He crumbled.

(And Evans was pretty sure only a few people in the world could do that to him, and one of them was Hemsworth. Suddenly he felt intrusive on this private moment, like this was somewhere he shouldn’t be. Something he shouldn’t see. And, yet, he couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealously himself, because it could only ever be Hemsworth, only—)

Evans drew himself out of his thoughts and looked up to find Hemsworth moving closer, taking each step slowly, fearful of that anger would return. He watched as the other finally stilled, coming to stand right in front of Tom, bodies inches away from each other. One of his hands came to grasp the bottle of wine, slowly stealing it from Tom’s grip, who let it slip away. The other came up to cup Tom’s cheek, thumb gently rubbing little circles affectionately against the stumbled hair and warm skin.

He wanted to look away. Look away and leave. Because—

( _Chris whispered_ ,)

“I’m sorry.”

This was private. For them and them alone. If only—

( _Tom blinked, eyes moving to look up at Chris, the shadow of a smile on his lips, and he whispered back_ ,)

“I know.”

Evans finally turned his gaze away when they kissed. It was gentle and sweet and everything that was needed between them right now, and he simply couldn’t take it anymore.

Chris took Tom by the waist, and Tom took him by the neck. It was only lips and quiet and I’m sorry, I’m sorry, _I’m sorry_ —

Evans cleared his throat and they pulled away, turning to look at the other male who sat on the couch all red faced and awkward.

“I think I should be…going now…” He got up from the couch, trying to move as quickly to the door as possible without showing how embarrassed he really was. It didn’t work, and he didn’t get to the door.

Tom gripped his arm quick and pulled him back; pulled him close.

“And where do you think you’re going?” He asked, smirking ever so slightly.

Evan’s blush brightened. He didn’t look to see Hemsworth’s reaction to this. “I just thought it would be better to give you two some privacy…”

“I have a better idea.” Tom said, his smirk growing wider as he pulled Evan’s even closer, one arm snaking behind his head, long fingers brushing through hair. “Let’s teach Hemsworth here how to share.” With that, Tom pulled him into a kiss. Both of the Chrises eyes went wide. This kiss wasn’t like the last, all chaste and filled with softness. This one was with hunger and teeth and a point to prove.  Fingers pulled at his hair, trapping him, so all Evans’s could do was stand there and take it, trying to not notice how tension grew in Hemsworth’s arms as he started to kiss back.

Tom was the one to finally pull back, mouth open and breathless. His fingers untangled themselves from Evans’s hair and he turned with a smirk to the other Chris.

“Bedroom?”

There was a second of pause before Hemsworth nodded in agreement, accepting these terms. He looked back at Evans who also took a second, but soon enough nodded his own yes.

Somewhere between moving from the living room to the bedroom, all shoes fell off and both Chrises had lost their shirts while Tom his shirt and pants. They landed on the bed none to gracefully in a pile of hard bodies and long limbs. Underneath them, the bed groaned but gave no further protest. Thank god it was a queen.

Tom’s hands grasped at the closest body too him—Hemsworth—wrapping around his shoulders to pull him down for a kiss, heavy and heated. Fingers traced around his hips, tugging at his underwear impatiently. He moaned into the kiss, half because of those hands squeezing his hips and half because of what Hemsworth’s tongue was doing inside his mouth. He brought his hips up, letting those hands pull, leaving him completely naked now. Nails scrapped down his thighs, sending little shocks of thrill running up his spine. Tom shivered visibly, pulling away from the kiss to breathe.

“Clothes.” He panted, chest huffing and already the blush from his cheeks was running down his neck. “Both of you. Off. Now.”

Hemsworth nodded, working on his belt. Evans moaned, fingers slipping on the buttons of his jeans. Tom scoffed, pressing his palm flat against his naked chest to press him down onto the bed, slapping his hands away as he straddled his thighs and worked his pants open. Evans just stared on in surprised silence, watching as those long, nimble, fingers worked open his pants. He gasped as they were pulled down far enough for Tom to grasp his growing erection through his boxer. He could only squirm underneath the dark haired male as those fingers worked him into a full erection.

“Like that, darling?” Tom hummed, smiling down at the other male. “Want more?”

Evans shook his head, frantic, trying to form words like ‘ _yes_ ’ and ‘ _please_ ’ and ‘ _oh, god’_ but nothing left his mouth but breathy moans. His attention turned as he heard a deep rumble of laughter just as Hemsworth came up behind Tom, kneeling and totally naked now. He had almost forgotten the other man was present in the room, too drawn to the way Tom was gripping his cock, stroking it in long, slow motions.

“I think he does want more, Tom…” He said right up against Tom’s ear. Muscled arms came around to rest on Tom’s chest, fingers rubbing and pinching perk nipples, which sent Tom into little fits of groans and gasps. The motion of his hand faltered slightly as he closed his eyes, feeling the tug and pull on his chest. Hemsworth smiled at this, obviously pleased with the reaction. He came to rest his chin on Tom’s shoulder, looking past him to Evans. “You want more, right Chris?” It wasn’t a question he needed to answer, as Hemsworth did it for him. “Yeah, of course you do. Hey, Tom?” The last part was whispered, sending shivers and goosebumps running across Tom’s skin. He shuddered. “Have you showed Chris what you can do with your mouth? I bet he would just love that…”

Tom gasped. Evans moaned. The idea of Tom between his legs, lips wrapped around his cock—

And then, it was happening. Hemsworth pushed Tom between his shoulder blades, forcing him to drop his grip on Chris’s cock so he could brace his arms on the mattress so he didn’t fall face first into Evans’s crotch, mouth open in a hard groan as Hemsworth still pushed lightly and he tried to resist.

Mouth open and panting, Evans couldn’t take it. That mouth was so close to his erection, breathing hot air over the tip. His hips jerked up accidentally, his cock sliding against Tom’s cheek, smearing a strip of pre-come over flushed skin.

“S-shit! Sorry!” He stuttered out, stilling his hips once more.

But Tom only groaned, casting his eyes down, as Hemsworth stopped pushing him down so he could settle properly between Evans’s legs. Fingers pulled at pants and boxers, pulling them down further, out of the way. His mouth was still so close, breathing against hard skin. Evans only watched as Tom moved, turning towards his cock to lap at the side of it, fingers working the base. At that moment, Evans swore he almost died. His breathe was stolen from him as his vision tunneled to only Tom, licking him like a candy and running his teeth ever so lightly over sensitive skin. It was too much to take.

“F-fuck, Tom, d-don’t—“

 But Tom only batted away concerns and worries and hands that might pull him off. He licked another strip, from base to tip, up Evans’s cock before taking the head into his mouth and sucking. All he could do now was lie back and take it; feel it. Which he did.

He felt how Tom’s lips stretched around his girth, how he sucked just enough and stopped only long enough to lap at the cock with his tongue. He felt how inch by inch of his cock was consumed in that wonderful heat and suction and _oh, god—_

He bucked up again, thighs tensing as he sought out more of that mouth. Almost immediately he stopped, biting his lip because that was incredibly rude of him, and he felt terrible. He opened his eyes to look at Tom and apologize (when had his eyes closed?) but froze when he saw Tom staring back. All blue eyes and dark curls and something mischievous he hadn’t seen since they had stopped filming.

And then Tom swallowed.

Evans almost screamed. His hips jerked up in earnest, snapping sharp to try and get further down that beautiful throat.

“Fuck, _fuck_!” He hissed, threading fingers through those curling and pulling, afraid to decide if it was to get him off or to drive him down. “ _Tom_!”

“Oh, he’s really good at that, isn’t he?” Hemsworth spoke up; an all too amused expression on his face. He still hovered over Tom, watching the exchange from the small distance. “You should see how flexible he is too.”

Evans almost didn’t want to, because he knew something like that would push him too hard. But all he could think of was how far he could push Tom before he broke.

It seemed Hemsworth was simply tired of watching, however, as he took Tom’s hips in hand and pulled up, tearing a short groan of surprise from Tom as he was reposition to Chris’s liking. His knees fell under him easily, supporting his weight as those hands pulled him further, lifting his ass into the air for Hemsworth’s viewing pleasure.

“Hold that position.” He said, leaving the bed for a moment to go to the bathroom, bringing back a small bottle of hotel brand lotion. Tom glanced up and saw this, giving Chris a soft glare, but he was not fazed. “Either this, or I go in dry.” At such a reply, Tom only moaned (which in turn made Evans moan as the vibrations shot right up his dick). Evans wasn’t sure if Tom found the idea horrifying or erotic. Through it all, he hadn’t stopped sucking Evans’s cock.

That is, until Hemsworth pressed in a well coated finger into his ass. The action surprised Tom, not prepared for the intrusion. The surprise made him choke, pulling himself off quickly to cough and drool and moan as the finger was worked into his ass, pressing and searching until a second followed, which stretched him out with a heavy groan. His fingers held tight to Evans’s thigh, cheek resting on his hip as he took it, moaning and arching as those fingers worked him open, pressing in a third, and thrust in.

Chris Evans watched, breathless, as Tom’s expressions changed between moans and pants and heavily lidded eyes. His fingers still held hair, petting gently and trying to whisper things to him, something to make it better, but nothing ever got loud enough and nothing ever sounded right, so he just watched.

Watched as Hemsworth hit something inside of Tom that made him unravel, whither and moan like a whore on the sheets, begging for more and please, please _, please_.

Watched as Hemsworth sat down cross legged on the bed, cock standing proud against his stomach, dripping against skin.

Watched as those fingers left Tom open and whimpering.

Watched as they slicked up that cock. As they grabbed Tom around the waist, dragging him back and pressing him down; hips thrusting forward and _in_.

Tom screamed when he was entered, finally feeling so filled and stretched and good. He threw his head back and squeezed his eyes closed tight, arching and trying to remember how to breathe properly. Hemsworth gave him almost no time to accommodate the cock properly before he started to thrust, hard and short and accurate. The force of it bending Tom into a bow as Chris managed to hit his prostate on every upward thrust. He tried to help the movement, grinding down and attempting to coordinate himself long enough to thrust down onto Chris’s lap, but the pleasure was too overwhelming and he simply couldn’t focus long enough to do so or even care.

It wasn’t until Hemsworth’s eyes locked with his own that Evans realized he had been staring at the pair. Memorizing them, so perfectly fit together how could he ever intrude on such a moment? Soon enough, Hemsworth changed his mind.

“Feeling left out, Evans?” Hemsworth growled out, practically panting as his hips slowed but didn’t stop. “Hm, I’m sure we could make some…room.” Evans’s eyes went wide as one still-slicked finger groped its way down Tom’s side, over his hips, and finally disappeared. He could only assume where it went when Tom’s eyes snapped open and he gasped.

“Chris, fuck, don’t you even _dare_.” He threatened, but his voice was still heavy with lust and need. It was so hard to take him seriously when his cheeks were tinted that lovely shade of red.

“What? I know you can take it; take us. You’re very flexible after all…” Another finger jointed the first, pressing in and against the still moving cock to stretch further. Tom’s eyes rolled back, his head falling onto Chris’s shoulder.

“N-no…” He choked out, sounding just as wanton and pathetic as he looked. “You—you _can’t_. You both—“

A third finger entered him and his breathe hitched.

Hemsworth smiled up at Evans, “Don’t listen to him. He doesn’t know what he wants. He wanted us to share, after all, so why not share?” His free hand gripped Tom’s knee, pulling his legs further apart. It gave Evans a good view of how hard Tom was still, how the little twitches of pain didn’t seem to faze him at all as Chris still stretching his hole out.

It should have been easy for Evans to deny this offer. Tom had clearly said no. He should have just gotten up and walked away from the whole thing. Left them alone to finish and enjoy each other’s company in the afterglow. It was what he should have done, but he didn’t. Tom just looked too good spread out like that. For Evans to take and Tom to be taken.

He moved before he even noticed, kneeling right in front of Tom. Chris passed him the lotion, to which he coated his cock quickly, taking Tom’s knees in hand to spread and lift him better, positioning himself at his opening. He pressed forward, slowly, feeling the head slide in and Tom moaned in his grasp, opening one bright blue eye.

“ _Please…_ ”

He didn’t know what that please meant, but it didn’t matter now. Quicker than he might have liked, his hips came forward, forcing half his cock into Tom. Both men held tight as Tom shook from the intrusion, feeling every inch of both cocks as it pressed into him.  Evans head fell forward, leaning on Tom’s chest as he grit his teeth and forced himself not to move any further in fear of breaking Tom.

A long second past before any of them dared to move or speak. The only sound that filled the room was that of their heavy panting, until, finally,

“One of you, _fucking move_.”

It was a statement that didn’t need to be said twice as one of them snapped up, filling Tom fully. After a few broken movements, they got into something of a messy rhythm with one always filling Tom, so he was never empty, but always begging for more.

The end came too soon, as all of them were too close to last much longer. Evans came first, muscles winding tight as he gave a final thrust up into Tom’s body, giving a silent scream as he mouthed at the chest in front of him, emptying himself with a few more shallow thrusts into the body before finally pulling out to lie back and watch the other two unravel.

It wasn’t until Hemsworth reached around to grab Tom’s weeping cock that he finally fell apart. He sobbed as too many sensations ran through his body at once, ripping his orgasm out of him with a scream of “ _CHRIS_!” to which neither truly knew who he referred to. Milked and spent to his limits, Tom became unbalanced, falling forward onto the bed where Evans cradled him gently as the other Chris continued his hard thrusts. It only took another few for him to finally come, emptying his load as he leaned forward to cover Tom’s body in his own, leaving a hard bite on his shoulder blade.

Tom could only moan as Hemsworth pulled out of him, leaving him wet and empty with the feeling of being well fucked out.

“S-shit…” He mumbled into Evans’s chest, eyes becoming heavier as fingers ran through his hair, petting his head slowly and coaxing him off to sleep. “That was…that was wonderful…”

If there was a reply to that, Tom didn’t hear it. With Hemsworth’s warmth and weight on his back, and Evans’s hard form and soft hands at his front, he didn’t really care for a reply. One was not needed as he finally fell asleep, positive that, when he woke up, he would be able to deal with the fact that he now had two Chrises to handle. And he was okay with that.


End file.
